


A More Gentle Touch

by spinel



Series: Bendoverwatch Week 2019 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, bendoverwatch week, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 05:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinel/pseuds/spinel
Summary: “I can’t work like this,” Hanzo huffs. Even though his hand is effectively trapped, he finds a way to tighten his grip along McCree’s shaft. McCree whimpers, his whole body shuddering.





	A More Gentle Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have some filth.
> 
> I clearly have no concept of deadlines, or what a week is, or dates. Despite that, the BendOverwatch week prompts are absolutely great. Have the prompt of Day 1, ‘Handjobs’, below. 
> 
> Thank you Z for looking this over.

 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Han—“

“Be silent,” Hanzo hisses, hand twisting viciously around McCree’s dick. McCree muffles a yell into Hanzo’s corded shoulder, grasps at his _gi_ blindly with both hands, and presses their bodies together. 

“I can’t work like this,” Hanzo huffs. Even though his hand is effectively trapped, he finds a way to tighten his grip along McCree’s shaft. McCree whimpers, his whole body shuddering, and he acutely feels the puff of Hanzo’s breath, sharp and sudden, against the shell of his ear. The death grip around his dick slowly eases. “Ah. You prefer a more gentle touch?” 

“A ‘more gentle’—“ McCree snorts, nosing at the fine hair at Hanzo’s nape and licking at the closest patch of skin. It’s dusty and grimy, like their clothes and their hair and the small factory explosion they were almost caught in. He grips Hanzo tighter when he says, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Hanzo grunts. He shifts his shoulders in the circle made by McCree’s arms, widens his stance, and finds extra space where McCree had plastered them together. His palm and fingers are rough, calluses where he draws his bow and uses his fingers to climb cliffs, buildings, and other ridiculous vertical surfaces, but his grip is light now, almost caressing. He pumps McCree slowly, a steady pressure that lessens when he gets to the head and flicks his thumb across it.

McCree gasps. When Hanzo does it again and adds a small twist of the wrist, he bites down to muffle his whine, and it’s Hanzo’s turn to shudder.  

“You must tell me—“ Hanzo says with some effort when he’s still relentlessly working McCree’s dick, massaging the precome into the skin, and McCree has littered his neck with vicious bites. “McCree, you must say, is this—“ he grips McCree just a little more firmly, pumping his hand up and down in a smooth motion. His fingers skitter across McCree’s length unexpectedly, and they come up to circle his cockhead. “—is this gentle enough for you?” Hanzo squeezes, twisting his wrist slowly, the pressure inexorable. 

McCree chokes as his hips jack into Hanzo’s fist. He does it once, twice, and then grunts, teeth sinking into the meat of Hanzo’s shoulder in frustration—Hanzo’s grip has loosened. On purpose. “ _Harder._ ”

Hanzo stifles a laugh. McCree can’t even appreciate it, busy as he is trying to chase an orgasm Hanzo is now keeping _just_ out of reach. “I’m only trying to deliver upon your request.” His fingers drum along McCree’s length, a tease from the base to right underneath the head and back down again. McCree sinks a hand into Hanzo’s disheveled hair, pulls suddenly and bites at the skin under his ear. Hanzo gasps, his fist tightening around McCree.

“I’m not the only one who can deliver, sugar. Gonna finish me off?”

Hanzo groans, but he’s a quick study. The pressure now is just right, the twist of his wrist around the head of McCree’s dick so deft it only takes three pulls for McCree to see stars. He spills with a grunt and shudders as as Hanzo keeps working him even after it’s clear that he’s done. His grip is light and steady, easy relentless movements that cause McCree to stay tight all over, everything bright and sharp as his pleasure continues to crest.

“Enough, enough—“ McCree ends up gasping when the edge of pain has definitely overridden pleasure. His hips do it for him, stuttering away, and Hanzo give one last, regretful stroke as he lets McCree’s dick slip away—McCree clenches all over again and chokes. “Christ,” he pants, head bowed into the juncture of Hanzo’s neck and shoulder. 

“Hn,” Hanzo says. 

When McCree looks down, Hanzo’s soiled palm is hovering awkwardly between them, and the tent in his pants is visible even over the folds of his _gi_. McCree’s brain may still be offline, but he’s good with his hands. He knocks Hanzo’s arms out of the way, gets his fingers up and under the _gi_ to findthe string keeping Hanzo’s pants up, and pushes the whole thing down. Hanzo’s dick springs up like some sort of desert flower, red and engorged and so damn pretty, the head wet and shiny with precome. McCree brings Hanzo’s dirty hand to his mouth, spits on his drying come, and says, “C’mon. Show me what you like so I can do it later.”  

Hanzo makes a high, strung-out sound, and starts stripping his dick quickly. His fingers are wrapped so tight his knuckles are white, and his hips jerk when McCree suddenly pulls at his hair.

“I see how it’s gonna be,” McCree says, eyes glued in between their bodies. Hanzo pants against McCree’s collarbone. McCree strokes the top of his head lightly before clamping down on Hanzo’s neck, mechanical fingers bruising as his other palm sweeps down and grips at Hanzo’s ass, dry thumb working its way between his asscheeks. “C’mon, baby. You gave it to me harder than that. That all you got?”  He rubs at Hanzo’s hole to create some heat and friction. 

Hanzo chokes on a whimper, pushes his hips back against McCree’s finger, and comes with a strangled cry when McCree gets his teeth on the shell of his ear. _He_ doesn’t keep a death grip on his dick once he’s done. 

McCree’s glad to keep him close as he comes down, Hanzo hot and shivering against him, but both their dicks are now hanging out in the breeze, there’s a bunch of dead Talon agents lying in the vicinity, and the acrid smell of smoke and charred flesh is now pervasive. Hanzo’s head is still buried in the crook of his neck but McCree sees him flexing his one dirty hand, now covered in both sets of come.

“I’d clean this off, but I don’t know where your hand’s been,” he jokes, and Hanzo laughs silently against him. “Here.” His mechanical palm still on Hanzo’s nape, he tugs his t-shirt our from from under his body armor, and gets Hanzo to wipe off the evidence of their release. “Penny for your thoughts?” McCree asks as Hanzo tucks both their dicks away in an eerie silence. He just had a finger on Hanzo’s asshole, he’s entitled to be nosy. 

“I was... forceful,” Hanzo finally says, head still bowed against McCree’s collarbone. “I thought myself more observant.” 

McCree snorts. “You’re plenty observant. Good listener, too. Not seein’ me complainin’, are you?”

Hanzo huffs out a single laugh. He stays quiet. 

“Now listen here,” McCree says. “I didn’t save your goddamn ass from a sniper for you to have regrets _now_.”

That gets a rise out of Hanzo. When he finally looks up at McCree, he’s glaring something fierce. “First of all,” he says, icy, “I knew the enemy was there. You, walking in to the fray with no cover—I had to neutralise three Talon agents for your to take that fourth one on, and we still had to run from that detonation! And second—“ He stops, and steels himself with a wince. “... And second, I can still regret that, in my relief, I did not behave as I should.”

“To be fair,” McCree says, “I did grab your dick first, but then you got ahead.”

“It was... unexpected.” Hanzo flushes. 

McCree smirks. “The dick grabbin’? You’re lyin’ to us both, Shimada, if you think it was unexpected.”

“Not in the middle of a mission!” Hanzo hisses. 

McCree shrugs. “It was the end of the mission, Athena’s sweep confirmed it. And I don’t get to save your ass as often as you do mine—it made me feel all tingly.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrow. “You don’t see me marching down to claim your genitals when we are deployed on missions together.”

“Wouldn’t mind if you did,” McCree winks, and smiles even wider at Hanzo’s scowl. “Now now, are you sayin’ you would mind a repeat?”

Hanzo huffs. “You must know I would take a repeat and more,” he says quietly. “But is that... ah, it just doesn’t seem like—we may not be compatible—“  

McCree watches Hanzo’s ears redden and his face deeply flush with delight. “Hanzo,” he says. “You just made me come my brains out. If you can dish it, I’ll be happy to take it.” 

Hanzo’s entire face is red when he says, “And what if I wanted to take it?”

McCree smiles as he presses their foreheads together. “You wanna take a look at your neck here, sugar? I’ve seen the writin’ on the wall, and I want a closer look.”

Hanzo exhales audibly. “If that is the case, then I would be happy to oblige.” 

McCree huffs out a laugh, and watches crinkles appear at the corner of Hanzo’s eyes. “Yeah, I bet you would. And you gotta know that so would I.”


End file.
